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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873896">A Significant Insignificance and An Insignificant Significance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginaryFigment/pseuds/ImaginaryFigment'>ImaginaryFigment</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Eyes, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Poetic, Scents &amp; Smells, fluff?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:40:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginaryFigment/pseuds/ImaginaryFigment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think it’s gorgeous, though.”</p><p>“Sure.” It’s all insignificant in the end though. </p><p>“I bet Rantaro would love it...”</p><p>And Kokichi really wishes Saihara hadn’t just said any of that because he doesn’t want to be reminded of Saihara’s loving boyfriend, of the person who took Saihara out his clutches, of the person who he loves like a brother and who he really, really doesn’t ever want to even think about again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Significant Insignificance and An Insignificant Significance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  Shuichi murmurs. </p><p>“Seen it once, seen it a hundred times,” Kokichi replies dryly. But it <em> is </em>beautiful and he knows and he hates it and he loves it because none of this fair. </p><p>“I guess so…” Shuichi doesn't look back at him, keeping his stupid, pretty eyes locked on the sky, on the stars that remind Kokichi of Shuichi’s golden eyes and of possibilities he can never see come true. “I think it’s gorgeous, though.”</p><p>“Sure.” It’s all insignificant in the end though. </p><p>“I bet Rantaro would love it...”</p><p>And Kokichi really wishes Saihara hadn’t just said any of that because he doesn’t want to be reminded of Saihara’s loving boyfriend, of the person who took Saihara out his clutches, of the person who he loves like a brother and who he really, really doesn’t ever want to even think about again. </p><p>“Oh,” he finally says. “I’m sure he would.” </p><p>“What, no jokes?” Saihara asks playfully. Kokichi goes deadpan. </p><p>“It’s rude to flirt with a taken man.” </p><p>“You’ve never had qualms about it before,” Saihara points out. And that’s true, he hasn’t. Kokichi flirts with everyone, it’s just who he is. But not Saihara. Never Saihara again. Because, somewhere down the line, it stopped being a joke for Kokichi. And that really fucking sucks. </p><p>Because he smells like old books and smoke and fucking vanilla and Kokichi hates vanilla, in every sense of the word. But for some goddamn reason, when it comes to Saihara, it’s beautiful and perfect and he loves it and he really, really wishes he didn’t.</p><p>Because Saihara hates sugar and that stupid grape soda that Kokichi loves and surrounds himself with religiously to the point where he even smells like it, despite putting in so much effort to buy that nice citrusy shampoo and drown out the soda, it’s still all he smells like and Saihara hates soda. And so Saihara probably hates Kokichi. </p><p>He will never love the way the grape scent rolls off Kokichi the way Kokichi loves how vanilla and vellichor and smoke waft off Saihara. He would never want to hold Kokichi close and breathe in that sugary smell the way Kokichi wants to hold him close and breathe in that stupidly perfect smell of Saihara. </p><p>Because, yeah, it’s vanilla and smoke and vellichor but it isn’t. It’s Saihara. No other person can, will, ever smell like that, or if they do, it will never work as well. </p><p>Because that smell belongs to Saihara, it <em> is </em> Saihara. </p><p>And, fuck him, Kokichi loves it.</p><p>“It’s all so fucking insignificant,” he says. Saihara finally turns to look at him. </p><p>“You keep saying that. Are you okay?” </p><p>“Yeah...no, it’s just that this is all so pointless. <em> Everything </em>is pointless. You know? It’s all insignificant.”</p><p>“I think it’s all pretty significant, actually. You’re the only <em> you </em>there will ever be. So everything that happens has to be significant.” Saihara smiles softly, putting his hand under his head. </p><p>Kokichi scoffs. “An insignificant significance then.”</p><p>Saihara frowns. “Or maybe it’s a significant insignificance. Maybe it’s all vastly important in the grand scheme of things, maybe not now but one day. One day, this ‘insignificance’ will become really significant.”</p><p>Kokichi looks back at him, silently cursing himself. He really hates all this, so much. His mind is flooded with thoughts of kissing Shuichi, what it would <em> feel </em> like, <em> taste </em> like, <em> smell </em> like. He turns away. “Maybe.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Shuichi echoes. There are a lot of maybes. Too many. Too many that can never happen, too many he lusts for, wishing they would turn to reality, hoping against hope- and yet knowing they never would. His eyes scan Ouma’s face, looking for what, he doesn’t know. </p><p>He tears himself away from those eyes, which will be his downfall, which pull him in like quicksand and refuse to relinquish their hold, a kaleidoscope which he can't-<em> won't- </em>look away from, twisted and beautiful. He knows then that that’s what he wants to see every morning and every night and every second in between, every day, for the rest of his life.</p><p>But he can’t, not really. Not when he has Rantaro. He cares about Rantaro, of course, he does. He <em> loves </em>Rantaro, of course, he does. But Ouma...god, there’s just something about him. </p><p>Something that drives Shuichi <em> wild. </em> That sends pins and needles up his body every time the boy so much as <em> touches </em> him. Something about those <em> eyes </em> that’s so <em> perfect </em> and <em> alive </em> and <em> mysterious. </em> Something about that <em> smile </em> that drives him mad with <em> desire </em> and <em> longing</em>.</p><p>And yet. And yet, and yet, and yet. </p><p>And yet there’s Rantaro. And yet, Ouma doesn’t feel the same. He can’t, of course, he won’t. Ouma is the light, the beauty within the world, the highlight of humanity, truly. And Shuichi...he’s nothing but darkness, an abyss, dragging everyone down with him. </p><p>And he can never do that to Ouma. Can never corrupt him the way Shuichi has corrupted so many others. Can never ruin him. He doesn’t want to, of course, he doesn’t. </p><p>Because Ouma is the light. Ouma is the stars, the sun, <em> everything. </em>He’s a significant insignificance who means everything to Shuichi and he really shouldn’t. </p><p>Because Ouma is the light and Shuichi is the darkness. And those things will never meet. And he loves Rantaro, he really does. But <em> fuck </em> , there’s just <em> something </em> about Ouma that he <em> wants</em>, so desperately <em> wants</em>, so achingly <em> needs</em>. </p><p>But Ouma doesn’t feel the same. Shuichi is the darkness, he loves old books and staying home and cuddling by the fireplace. Ouma likes to get stoned and party and have <em> fun. </em> And Ouma hates anything <em> boring</em>. And so he must hate Shuichi. </p><p>“Whatcha thinking about over there, mister detective?” </p><p>“Hmm? Nothing in particular. Just...admiring the most beautiful thing in the world.” Shuichi looks back up at the stars in the sky which remind him of Ouma’s kaleidoscopic, glittering eyes and the moon which is the same colour as Ouma’s milky pale skin and wind that brushes him like Ouma’s breath on the corner of his mouth before he started dating Rantaro and before Ouma got distant and weird. <em> Before he made a huge fucking mistake.  </em></p><p>Ouma scoffs. “You’ve been spending too much time with Space Man if you think the <em> sky's </em>the most beautiful thing in the world, Saihara.” </p><p>Shuichi aches to correct him, to tell him how no, the sky isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world, that no, it’s nowhere near the most beautiful thing. Because the most beautiful thing, it’s <em> him</em>, of course, it’s him. It has always been him. </p><p>But he can’t. And so he doesn’t. And he won’t. </p><p>And Kokichi aches to tell Saihara, then and there, that he doesn’t <em> care </em> anymore. That he <em> loves </em>Saihara and he doesn’t care about Amami or about what anyone else will think. He just wants Saihara. </p><p>But he can’t. And so he doesn’t. And he won’t. </p><p>But they want to. </p><p>A significant insignificance and an insignificant significance, together, inches apart, borderlining on too far, yet not far enough. It never will be. </p><p>But they can’t. And so they don’t. </p>
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